


shy daydreams & stardust

by Lil_Redhead



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anne is a nature mage, F/M, Magic!AU, and Gil is a mage who barely knows he's a mage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead/pseuds/Lil_Redhead
Summary: She can't help how he makes her magic spiral out of control whenever he's around, but maybe she can help him when his own abilities bloom out of nowhere like a lily pad in a teacup. Magic AU!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puddingandpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingandpie/gifts).



> Gifted to my kindred spirit, Josie (Pye) who understood me and loved me before we even met. Special thanks to amazalina on tumblr, who looked over a good portion of this and kept me going. You're the best, darling!

_Magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she spoke the language of the universe -- the stars sighed in unison._

_-Michael Faudet_

* * *

No one talked about magic on the island - a right shame to Anne Shirley who could sense the warmth of it pulsing through the earth like blood. It hummed across the land in its mystical tones, taken in breaths by Prince Edward Island’s inhabitants as much as they breathed in oxygen.

Certainly, Anne claimed, it was just as necessary.  Without magic, something vital in her would surely starve.

But the island recognized Anne as soon as she stepped on the soil and spoke to her in kind words, the way magic always did. _You are of me, and I am of you._ The island and Anne were two souls made of the same tingling supernatural essence that dripped from the stars like joyful tears.

Yet, to the people of Avonlea, magic didn’t exist even a little. No one blew cottony dandelions, wished on stray eyelashes, knocked on wood, or looked with fear on midnight colored cats. They all thought Anne a bit peculiar, the way she spoke to flowers and hugged the trees, but she didn’t mind. And those who were most important to her didn’t mind either.

As it turned out, they all had some magic in them too.

* * *

The hair dye hadn’t been natural or magical. Whoever had poured the foul smelling contents into the small jar _hadn’t_ had any experience with magic, that much Anne was able to figure out almost immediately. With any hope, the natural herbs would spring to life at her nature magic, and she’d have control over the color. She waved her hand over her head of black hair, hoping that the ingredients in the dye would stir to life at the pull of her spell, and change from black to a lighter brown.

“No good,” she said to herself when there was no change. She waved her hand again, this time picturing herself with Ruby’s golden ringlets. The hair remained stubborn and flat against her head, the effect much like that on a dead crow. Repeating the spell once, twice, three times more, Anne’s frustration grew.

“Okay, I’ve learned my lesson!” she sighed angrily to whatever higher power had blocked her powers. “It’s wrong to be vain. I won’t try to change my appearance anymore, just let me have my red hair back.”

 _I never thought I’d be begging to be a carrot again,_ she thought sardonically, blowing a strand out of face. _Alright, here goes…_ In one last attempt to change her hair back, she swung her arms over her head.

A burst of magic shot out from her hands like lightning, sending her flying across the room and hitting the footboard of her bed. An ache resonated behind her temple at the impact, but it didn’t hurt enough to keep her from staggering to her feet. As soon as she saw herself in the mirror, she screamed.

The rest was history. Marilla had come scurrying up to Anne’s room, only to find the girl tucked six feet under her heavy bedspread. Together, they watched as Anne’s auburn hair fell to the floor, leaving her with with a head of pixie hair.

“Are you sure it was the _hair dye_ that turned your hair green, Anne?” Marilla scolded quietly. Anne straightened at the accusation, but bit her lip from snapping back.

“It was the hair dye that started it,” Anne hissed back. “Whatever else happened afterwards, I cannot be held accountable for.”

“I have no intention to hold you accountable. The children at school, however…”

If the children at school had no imagination, then they were the ones at a loss.

Power teemed at Anne’s fingertips, vibrating in anxious anticipation to be unleashed as she stared at herself in the mirror. She would not be defeated.

The headband she’d donned in her short hair had helped the starkness of her appearance, but there was still something missing. Tapping her finger on the headband, Anne smiled in satisfaction and she watched tiny purple and blue flowers sprout from the fabric. They multiplied like wind spread pollen. Suddenly, she wasn’t looking at the choppiness of what used to be long hair, but instead a garden of flowers crowning the fair Lady Cordelia.

Later that day, when Gilbert Blythe’s eyes fell down upon her, a handful of flower petals exploded from the headband, floating down like snowflakes at their feet. She hoped she kicked them underneath the nearby desk before anyone could notice.

When Anne caught a glance at her reflection in the dusty window, she realized the number of flowers had multiplied.

Surely it wasn’t Gilbert Blythe that made her magic short circuit like that. She was just surprised to see him, that was all.

…Right?

* * *

“How have you been, Anne?” a voice called out from behind her. She startled, nearly falling into the chilled pond as she bent to grab her milk. There was Gilbert, grinning with that handsome smile that seemed to start up the magic in her veins. “Are you alright? You seem a little...apprehensive.”

A quiet crackle sounded from the pond, and Anne clenched her hands to keep her magic at bay. Why was she having such a hard time controlling it lately?

“I’m just surprised to see you, is all. You didn’t mention anything about your return home in your letter,” she replied in a genial tone.

“It was somewhat of a last minute decision,” he admitted. Anne went to take another step, only to have her foot slipping out from underneath her. Before she could tumble forward, Gilbert caught her in his arms, and she accepted the help against her better judgement. The feel of his soft touch and faint smell of cinnamon ignited the sparking magic in Anne’s chest, and another crackle was heard behind her. When she afforded herself a quick glance to where the noise was coming from, she tumbled out of Gilbert’s arms.

The pond was _iced over -_ frozen solid to a degree that she could feel the cool air radiating off like upside down heatwaves. She gave a short, sharp twist of her hand in an attempt to bring the water back to its original state, but it only froze more.

There was no way Gilbert saw it, much to Anne’s relief, because his countenance was the perfect picture of neutral friendliness. With a few deep inhalations, she bit back her magic, then slowly concentrated on thawing the frozen pond. To her relief, it seemed to be working up until more ice crystalized under her toes and she slid forward again.

“Easy there,” he teased, tugging on her elbow to lead her away from the pond. “People will think _you’re_ the one who spent a year at sea.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blythe, but I am perfectly capable of walking without your assistance.”

“I’m sure you are,” he answered, a strange look in his gaze. “I actually came over to ask you something.”

“Oh,” Anne said quietly.

“Do you know if Marilla has any books on gardening? Bash says the farm looks pretty lifeless right now, and I’d like to start up a garden so that he has something occupy himself with while I work on my schooling. It’s simply that flowers aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”

But they _were_ Anne’s, she thought with delight. She brought a hand to adjust the flowery headband behind her ears. If he really needed a garden up and running, why, Anne could have a complete garden grown in seconds. As if to prove a point, tigerlilies blossomed along the school house behind him.

There was no way she could do it for him, though. If anything, she should have been focusing on controlling her magic, avoiding the slip ups that seemed to be plaguing her daily life in recent days. All she needed to do was tell him that she would ask Marilla about the books and -

“Actually Gilbert,” she heard herself saying. “I happen to know a lot about gardening myself. That is, if you don’t mind accepting a little help.”

“Not at all. In fact, I’d probably like that a little bit better.”

A pebble sized bloom of Queen Anne’s Lace sprouted behind his right ear, and before she could stop herself, she plucked it from the soft curls and held it out to him.

“I think you’ll come to find that gardening is just a practice in love and magic.”

* * * 

His timing could not have been any worse. _Really, Blythe -_ he scolded himself - _you might as well have dug a hole in the field and crawled right into it._ At least that would have been less dramatic than what he was doing now, scurrying around his living room chasing after one of his end tables that fled from him like a spooked dog.

There were small graces, he supposed, just narrowly missing the table as it dashed by him for the umpteenth time. At least Bash wasn’t home. How Gilbert would explain the current predicament, he had no idea.

 _Oh, it’s really no big deal, Bash,_ he imagined himself saying.   _I just got a little tingly in my fingertips and accidentally brought our end table to life. Just go ahead on out to the fields, I’ll only need to chase it for another minute or two._

It wasn’t as bad as the time with the rake in the barn, which had earned him a few deep gashes along his upper arm in the shape of metal teeth. Or the time involving his entire tea set, which had followed him to school like a line of ducklings. He didn’t notice the clinging of the ceramic against the ground until he was halfway to the schoolhouse. Anyone walking by would have been greeted to a peculiar sight - Gilbert Blythe wagging his godforsaken finger at the line of dirtied teacups, yelling them that they needed to _Go back home right now or else I’ll step on you and turn you into tea pieces._

It was like something had possessed him, but whatever it was, Gilbert could not want it gone fast enough. In fact, if it could make itself scarce before Anne got here to work on his garden, he’d have been eternally grateful. It was already bad enough that he turned the pond to ice yesterday at school - praise the Lord that she hadn’t noticed! He didn’t even know he had it in him- but this would be too much. It might just stop her from ever talking to him again.

The end table gave one last attempt to whizz past him, breaking him from his thoughts as it rammed into the side of his thigh. Gilbert doubled over at the blunt pain of it, but managed to snag the table’s leg before it could start off again. Doing his best to control the tickling sensation at his fingertips, he urged the table to lose whatever lively properties had enchanted it. Little by little, the fluidity in the wood returned to a solid state, and Gilbert returned it to its initial place with a sigh of relief.

This had been happening ever since he returned to Avonlea. Thinking back, Gilbert had a vague worry that perhaps during all his travels, he touched something he wasn’t supposed to, tasted magic he wasn’t meant to consume. Whatever it was, it was too big to be kept secret in Avonlea. He didn’t want to leave again, but if anyone found out about his new strange abilities, then…

Just then, a knock came from the door. Gilbert had half a mind to ask whether it was actually a person, or if all the sudden his front entry had taken a mind of its own. Instead, he took a few steadying breaths, and opened the door.

Oh _heavens above,_ Anne was a sight for sore eyes. With her pixie hair poking out from beneath her straw hat, she stared at Gilbert like she was either about to punch him or kiss him. He preferred the latter, especially after the morning he had, and just as he had found the words to greet her, she held up a hand.

“I have one condition,” she said quickly. “Otherwise, I brought these books from Marilla and you can do it yourself.”

“Hello Anne, it’s good to see you,” he said, ignoring her onslaught for just a moment to offer the greeting he’d been holding in his throat. “Whatever your condition is, I’m sure I’ll be more than happy to comply.”

“You _can’t_ watch me work,” she said carefully. “Not at first, at least. I’ll tell you when it’s okay to come out, but I won’t have you looking over my shoulder.”  
It was a strange request but Gilbert nodded,  “Okay An-”

“I mean it, Gilbert Blythe!” She jabbed a finger in his face. “No peeking from behind the trees, no watching from the windows, nothing!”

“I accept your condition,” he agreed. Anne eyed him suspiciously, hearing the _but…_ in his words. “As long as you agree to my condition.”

“Which is?”

“Allow me to serve you tea first.”

The tension in Anne’s shoulders dropped and she nodded.

“I think that would be lovely, Mr. Blythe.”

 

Anne thought that the house had taken on new life. To sit in the main parlor, sun shining in through the window behind, was like sitting on a beating heart. Gilbert had magic in his house, as present as they were with each other, as powerful as the most enchanted valleys of the woods. There was no way she could tell Gilbert that his home was brimming to the entryway with magic. He’d never believe her.

Nevertheless, it felt good to be at peace with a friend whose company she enjoyed in a house that welcomed her like a long lost sister.

“How has it been living with Bash?” she asked, noticing the lack of Gilbert’s friend.

“It’s nice to have people in the house again,” he admitted, staring down with stormy eyes into his cup. “Him and Mary are collecting the last of her things today, and then they’ll be officially moved in.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that,” Anne replied seriously. “For so long I had worried that-” She stopped when she saw little forget-me-nots sprouting up from the floorboards. Snapping her gaze away from her own slip of magic, she forced herself to look at the wall.

“Worried that what?” Gilbert asked. He must not have noticed the flowers, because he shifted in his chair so that his feet were crushing a cluster of them.

“Worried that you were lonely,” Anne said quietly. “I know better than anyone what it’s like to feel like you don’t have anyone. It’s not something I would wish on anyone, especially not you. Even though I give you a hard time sometimes, I know that you’re truly _good,_ Gilbert.”

All the candles in the room ignited like electrical bulbs, releasing one clear _snap_ as the flames burst into existence.

Anne jolted, eyeing the candles with a suspicious gaze. She’d never been able to use fire magic before, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. Gilbert reacted too, shooting to his feet and dropping his mug of tea on the floor. With the help of the candles and the lacy sunlight through the curtains, Anne could make out a red hue on his cheeks.

His dropped mug rolled down by her toes, spilling out everything that had been inside, including tea and - Anne gasped - a _lilypad._ She sprouted a _lilypad_ in his tea!

They stared at one another for a tense moment, breathing in the same terrified air. Anne’s mind was blank, and she begged her imagination and her magic to give her some sort of idea of what she should do to salvage the situation. Could she tell Gilbert the truth? Even if she did - _which was a terrible idea_ \- and he believed her - _which he wouldn’t_ \- how could she explain why her magic only seemed to spiral into a tornado whenever he was around?

What possible reason could there be other than the fact that she -

Gilbert spoke before she could finish her thought.

“Do you believe in magic, Anne?”

It was too much all at once. The possibility of her own feelings for him combated with the fear of him abandoning her. The unveiling of her abilities in broad daylight just a few times too many could be the ruination of everything they had built together, small brick by small brick.  All of it was too much, forcing a large tidal wave of magic to press against every corner of her being.

The last thought she had before she stood her ground against the massive current of magic was that she had never truly been a good swimmer.

 

Gilbert’s heart leapt out of his chest before he could catch it. It all happened so fast.

As soon as he’d spoken, Anne’s eyes had widened like a deer in headlights. The next thing he knew there was a thunderous shattering sound, shards of glass everywhere on the floor around them, and a long tree branch broken through the window that had knocked Anne square in the head. She laid amongst the glass, eyes closed, forehead bleeding from where the branch had made impact. Drops of her cherry red blood hit the floor right where the strange flowers had sprouted up out of nowhere.

“Anne? _Anne!”_ He fell to the ground beside her, taking her in gentle hands, and pressing the sleeve of his sweater against her wound.

His new horrible powers had done this to her. How _could_ he? How could he let it get so bad that he would let Anne get hurt? There was no way he could forgive himself, he wouldn’t! He’d lock himself away somewhere and not show his face to anyone again until he had more control over whatever it was that possessed him.

As he touched the soft freckles on her forehead, he grieved. Whatever he had been building with Anne, this new friendship built of fragile straw, had been torn down for good. She’d never speak with him again.

But God, if only there was something he could do to make it right.

And then his strange powers did the first good thing they’d ever done before - they listened. The fingers on her skin tingled sweet, the same thrum of blood that took over his heart when he looked at her now pulsing behind his fingertips. It slipped from him and onto her, sealing the wounds and cleaning the blood.

Anne’s eyes fluttered as the gash began to heal, and she brought a finger to where the injury had been.

“Anne?” Gilbert asked, examining her frantically for any other scratches his touch could heal. “How are you feeling? Are you still hurt?”

Her hazy eyes lifted to the hole in the window and the massive branch that had grown halfway into the room. She ran her hand over her head again, and sat up abruptly.

“I feel perfectly fine,” she said slowly, detangling herself from him. “How do I feel perfectly fine? What was it that you just-”

“Look, Anne, I don’t know exactly what it is. It’s just that lately strange things have been happening around me and I seem to have some control over them, but not enough to protect you from whatever _that_ was that just broke through the window. I understand if you don’t want to speak with me anymore. I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who brought _end tables to life_ but -” Anne held up a hand to put an end to Gilbert’s rambling, then froze. In slow, purposeful words, she spoke.

“My god, you’re one too.” An unstoppably wide grin spread across her pink cheeks and she grabbed his hands, clasping his clammy palms in hers. “You’re one too!”

Anne Shirley was of the island, but if Gilbert Blythe shared the same mythical bond that pulsed magic through her veins, then she was happy she could be of him too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert learns more about his magic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute since this fic has seen the light of day, hasn't it? But I'm trying to chip away at my MCs. This one will be a three-parter, since my chapter estimation skills are abysmal. I was thrilled to come back to this lovely world ~ nature is one of life's sweetest pleasures.

She told him everything.

“So the ice on the pond, the flowers randomly growing out of my floor, and the lily pad in my tea...That was all you?” Gilbert asked carefully. Anne nodded as she handed him a new cup of tea, hoping that the hot liquid would cool down his restlessness. He’d been clutching his fingers the same way you hold back a barking dog begging to unleashed, and she knew the feeling. Suddenly having a power you didn’t want and couldn’t control at first seemed like a curse, but Anne knew that with time, he would accept it as a part of him.

Not to mention, he had _Life_ magic. Magic that could restore and revitalize. It could take things that never had an ounce of spirit and fill them so completely with life that they’d rise and chase him around the room. Surely there was no true curse in that.

“The candles must have been you,” Anne added. “Fire has never been within my control.”

“That’s ironic,” he muttered, taking a sip of tea. Something humorous in his mind was making him chuckle, causing her to look at him suspiciously. “What with your hair and all.” Anne rolled her eyes, settling on the couch beside him. Some of the color had returned to his face, but he still kept looking up at her forehead where she’d been bleeding as if he expected the wound to open right back up. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Of course, Gil. It’s my own fault I got hurt, anyways. I should have been able to control it better.”

“Can you control it now?” he asked, and for a moment, Anne wondered if he was afraid of her. Then, she met the light in his eyes with her own and saw no fear. He was intrigued, dipping his toes into unfamiliar water with a burst of bravery that came from trusting her.

“Yes, I think so.” The unwanted tingling of her magic behind her skin had stopped after the explosion of the window. It now simmered in the background, just tangible enough that she knew it was there, but subdued enough behind her rigid control that she wasn’t concerned about breaking any more windows. “Would you like me to show you?”

He replied in one captivated, breathy, “Yes.”

 

If mother nature existed, she was walking before Gilbert, bare toes getting caught between wildgrass as they made their way to the desolate garden. With each step Anne took, the grass around them grew taller, the leafy trees grew ever more verdant, and little toadstools sprouted to mark the way.

The earth wanted to consume her, wrap around her legs, and turn her into another tigerlily, returning her from whence she came.

“Don’t mind all of that,” Anne murmured sheepishly, kicking some of the spare grass from between her toes. “I want to start your garden completely unrestrained. This is what it looks like when I’m not holding back any of my magic. Bits of it trickle over, like a boiling pot.”

To prove her point, she caught a handful of daisy petals that had been floating around her like an aura. She opened her palm, and the petals blew in his direction, carried on the soft touch of the breeze.

“Is this too much?” she asked. “You look a bit pale.”

Truthfully, maybe it was too much. Too much admiration for her loving touch as she plucked the petals from mid air, and the graceful strength in her stride that made the earth grow up from nothing to touch her. If he had adored her before, now it was a tornado unleashed on himself, wreaking destruction on everything he thought he knew.

But one thought stayed the same, an irrefutable fact that that remained true since the first day.

He _loved_ her - the same romantic love that made his magic turn into flames and consume him alive with unavoidable sensation. It was Anne. How could he not love the girl whose words and smile were forged with gold?

“It isn’t too much,” he answered finally, small smile lifting his lips. “Show me.”

Anne crept forward, lifting the skirts of her dress as to not sully the pale colors as she dug her toes into the loose soil.

“You raked everything already?” she asked, focused as she pressed some of the dirt between her fingers.

“More like the rake did the work for me,” he replied a bit sheepishly. This broke Anne out of her focus and she met Gilbert’s eyes with her own storm cloud ones.  In the daylight sun, she read him like a book. Each wrinkle around his eye, each hidden message in his expression - they were all words that she comprehended.

“This whole time, you’ve been going through it alone,” she murmured, the words floating from her heart like feathers in water. “You lost your father, traveled the world, made a new family, _and_ had to weather the strangeness of developing magic all at once?”

Gilbert looked at her funny as the muscles in his face constricted, the raw exhaustion of the past year from making itself visible to her. A gust of wind swept past him, wisping bits of Anne’s floral fragrance along with it. _Of course_ she saw right through him. Her soul had known his intimately before they even met.

When he didn’t respond, Anne smoothed her hands down the skirts of her dress and nodded.

“Alright, Gilbert. Your abilities might seem scary now, but I assure you as your trusted confidant…” She knelt down in the dirt, digging her fingertips into the soil. “Magic is nothing to fear. It’s love and grace at its warmest and kindest. And those are all things that you are. You can make great things happen, you just have to trust yourself.”

The rows of the barren garden suddenly sprouted to life. Tiny blossoms of green stems and leaves popped up as if several days of time had passed in a mere few seconds. Gilbert knelt down, struck with amazement as he watched the new buds flourish into a thick patch of what he recognized as carrots, potatoes, and cabbage. Sunflowers, roses, peonies - an entire array of greenery that she’d brought to life with just the feelings in her heart and the thoughts in her head.

Anne had done it all. Heaven above _,_ she was _exquisite._

His shaky fingers reached out and took hers, soft skin tangling in the soil and roots. Their magic sparked when they touched, but neither let go.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” she asked quietly.

His grasp tightened in hers and he bit contained a grin into a small smile before saying, “Not even a little.”

* * *

Gilbert spent the next several weeks practicing. He practiced and practiced and practiced, until his nerves were raw with streaming magic and his muscles were achy from the strain. He worked alone in his barn when Bash was out, extending his hand to rain magic down on watering jugs, wrenches, stray wagon wheels. The inanimate objects careened into his touch, renewed with life and vigor. This time, they didn’t chase after him or attack him. They simply bustled about quietly and awaited instructions.

He did have Life magic, it seemed, because his powers worked wonders on a sick apple tree suffering from blight. The dark disease that had consumed the long branches and fruit dissipated with Gilbert’s careful touch, and the leaves suddenly shone with bright, new verdance. As where Anne’s magic was radiant, Gilbert’s was calm, like a soothing balm on a burn.

Whenever he felt like he was losing control, he thought of Anne. And if she was with him, he’d reach back for her hand, feeling the relief of her support almost immediately when she took it.

A strange, lonely part of him worried about what would become of him and his abilities if she ever left him. He voiced this to her one day, trying to leave out any hints of his longing for her.

“That would never happen,” answered Anne firmly. “But I agree. It’s nice to have a small handful of people supporting you. Even I have Marilla.”

“You told Marilla?” Gilbert asked, astonished. Fuschia settled over Anne’s cheeks, and she shrugged.

“It was an accident, really. She caught me practicing with deer behind the barn.”

“What were you doing?”

“Giving them flower wreaths,” she answered honestly. “Oh, they were the most _majestic_ creatures I ever saw, auburn beauties with their white spots. I thought they were much like me in that way, so I wanted to speak with them. When Marilla found me, I was laying against the mother deer, adorning her baby with the most beautiful queen anne’s lace on the island - quite out of thin air. I had to explain myself.”

“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like,” Gilbert replied. “How did she react?”  
A content smile flitted across Anne’s face and she turned her face up the blowing breeze.

“Love makes people accept the things they don’t understand, Gil. Marilla loves me, magic and all. She calls it my gift from the Almighty, and I say it is the best thing he ever gave me.” Anne threw him a side glance. “That and my family and friends. And you, of course.”

They stopped walking at the gate of Green Gables, and Gilbert leaned an arm against the wooden post. Anne waited, knowing there was something weighing on his mind.

“Do you think I should tell Bash and Mary?”

Anne considered this for a few moments, kicking a small pebble underneath the toes of her shoes.

“I think if there’s anyone that understands what it feels like to be different and misunderstood, it’s Bash and Mary. Whether or not you decide to tell them is completely up to you. Only you can predict how they’ll truly react.”

Gilbert knew Sebastian. There was nothing he could say, or do, to make Bash leave him for good. They were family - a bit messy, a bit unconventional, but a family nonetheless.

He would tell him tomorrow. 

* * *

Except Gilbert did not tell Bash the next day, nor the day after, nor the day after that. But the delay wasn’t out of fear. In fact, Gilbert was anxious to voice his news to someone who wasn’t Anne.

“I just want it to be _right_ when I tell them,” he explained to Anne one day in the meadow. “I thought maybe I could offer them some sort of peace offering. Like proof that it’s real that doesn’t involve bringing any of our cutlery to life.”

The grass had grown tall around Anne, and she allowed it to. If anyone looked down into the valley at them, they’d only see Gilbert whispering his secrets into a thicket of wild grass high enough to hide the elusive Anne. She looped her fingers through the verdant strands and bit her lip. This was one of the pleasures of discovering his new skill, Gilbert reflected. Getting to know the graceful quirks of her personality up close and intimately.

He even dared to say that they were kindred spirits now. Perhaps they always had been.

“You know, I might know just the thing to help you,” she said to herself, eyes locked on the Avonlea hilltops. Snapping out of her reverie, she jutted a finger into Gilbert’s face and glared at him with serious daggers in her eyes. “But you _cannot_ tell anyone about what you see. I mean it, Gilbert Blythe, not a soul!”

“I believe I can handle one more secret.” She wasn’t convinced until he matched her solemn expression and said, “On my honor, Anne. Wild horses couldn't drag the secret from me.”

And it was settled. Gilbert was to meet Anne the next day at that same hour at the predetermined destination - “The edge of the woods, right by Green Gables. You know the path, don’t you?” He knew exactly the spot of land she meant, for it was the beginning of the path Anne traversed to school on. The same path where they met. With a heart of anticipation, he counted the hours until their meeting.

The sun was stooping lower and lower when he found her there, sitting on a fallen log beside a wild raspberry bush. She was focused on the bush, arms folded comfortably in her lap. As he drew nearer, Gilbert realized that the blossoms and berry fruits were changing color - first to a startling fuschia, then a snow white, followed by a sunrise yellow, settling on the rosy red that the fruits began as.

“Oh, there you are!” Anne exclaimed once she caught sight of  him. She shot to her feet, scurrying over beside him. She tugged on his wrist, then linked their elbows together, leading him down the trodden path. “I’m so terribly excited to show you this. It’s something that only Diana, Cole, Ruby, and I know about. There is something thrilling about having a secret like this. It isn’t like the secret of having magic. That one is heavy, because if you tell it to the wrong person, you know it could cost you your life. But this one...Knowing this secret and sharing it with those you lov-” she paused, glancing nervously up at Gilbert. “Your dear friends doesn’t have any consequences. But it’s all yours just the same. And now I’ll share it with you, Gil.”

“I wish I had something to share with you in return,” he admitted, reaching up with his free hand to hold hers locked in his elbow.

“Oh, you already did share something with me, you goose!” she laughed. “The day you asked me if I believed in magic.”

“I guess you’re right. That’s something for just you and me, Anne-girl.”

“I do like the sound of that,” she admitted quietly. “But I hope you’re willing to allow one more person into the mix.”

And then it came into sight, a hut amidst the browns and the greens of the forest. It was built of scrap wood, adorned with Anne’s trademark flowers and greenery. Gilbert could easily see why she would want to keep this a secret. The tiny fortress was only big enough to fit a handful of people inside, but was big enough to offer respite away from the real world and its difficulties.

“Watch where you step,” Anne instructed sharply. Gilbert looked under him and found a small clay person held up by a twig. They were all around the hut, in fact, fairy sized sculptures of figures frozen in movement. Then it clicked.

“Cole did these, didn’t he? After his accide-”

“Anne? Is that you out there?” a voice called out from inside the hut. Her grin was toothy.

“Yes! Although, I didn’t come alone. I brought-”

“Gilbert!” Cole  finished for her, sticking his head out from around the small entrance, feathery pieces of auburnish blonde hair falling in his eyes. At first, he eyed Gilbert with slight distrust, but then he noticed Anne’s arm sweetly against Gilbert’s and raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Oh, don’t go getting any of your silly ideas,” Anne sneered, tearing herself away from Gilbert and stomping into the tiny cottage. “Come on, Gilbert. Cole started a fire.”

Suddenly feeling like an outsider, Gilbert followed her instructions and ducked into the small hideout. It was everything and nothing as he expected to find. Humankind and nature seemed to live together in harmony within the crooked walls - the ground revealing earthy soil and trodden leaves, the walls decorated with more wreaths that Anne had probably made with her magic. He settled on a chopped stump that had been placed there as a makeshift stool.

“I _tried_ to light a fire,” Cole explained, fog coming out of his mouth in big huffs. He rubbed his hands together, then gestured down at the charless pile of wood in the middle of the ground. “As you can see, my efforts were fruitless.”

“Oh well that’s not a problem. Gilbert can just -”

She paused when Gilbert’s head spun at her, but he said nothing. His eyes held all the meaning, unspoken words that she understood immediately. _What are you doing?_ A smile crossed her lips and she placed her hand on his.  
“Cole is one of us” she explained in a gentle voice, the same way she might speak to a startled deer. “He has magic, too.”

 _Magic_ \- the word was sweet to taste and held so much power over him just to hear. Just by speaking it one time, Anne could alter his path, change his fate. He was painfully aware of all of this as he waited for Cole to say something, but the artist’s eyes were only filled with joy and pride.

“Welcome to our mystical little club!” Cole said finally, reaching out his hand for Gilbert to shake. Sure enough, he felt the same spark of magic that he felt whenever he touched Anne. It wasn’t as warm or potent as it was with her, and he wondered if it had anything to do with how he felt for the strong redhead beside him.

“It’s a pleasure,” Gilbert responded politely. “Truly. For weeks I had thought someone had cursed me, but Anne...Well, she helped me see there’s nothing wrong with me at all.” Cole glanced between the pair before him and tried, to no avail, to bite back an amused smile.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured. Gilbert could already see why Anne felt so safe around Cole.

“May I ask… What is it your magic, uh, does exactly?” he asked.

Amusement danced across Cole’s face. Sketch papers at his toes began to flutter as subtle as a hummingbird’s flight, and with the same sweep of his hand that Anne always used to guide her magic, the papers lifted into the air. Gilbert watched in amazement as the parchment folded upon itself, crinkling and contorting into complex shapes of birds, horses, and flowers. Color exploded onto them from out of nowhere, and suddenly Gilbert could hardly believe they had come from plain, white paper just moments ago.

“Art. My magic makes art,” Cole said in a loving voice. “I think it’s always been there, but I didn’t discover it completely until after my accident. My magic does what my hands can’t, bringing to life all the beauty I see in my mind. Look at this one.”

He reached out and grabbed one of the origami birds, unfolding it to reveal a sketch of Anne. It was every bit as beautiful as the real thing, drawn in mystical, soft charcoal. With a tug in his chest, Gilbert realized that it was so breathtaking because it made literal the way he saw her - every starry freckle, the wideness of her eyes, the joy in her smile.

There must’ve been a strange, reverent expression on his face, because Cole whispered - “Like that one, don’t you?”

“It’s very lovely,” Gilbert openly admitted, smiling in adoration over at Anne, who blushed at the compliment. “I suppose it’s only fair to show you mine, though I don’t believe it’ll be quite as impressive.”  
“Gilbert Blythe, that is a lie and you know it,” Anne scolded. She crossed her over her chest and leaned her arms on folded knees, nodding for him to continue.

Her encouragement was all it took for the magic in his bones to spur to life. With her gentle spirit at his side supporting him, he reigned the wonderful current into his control. In the way she’d taught him, he held his fingers over the fire, and snapped.

Immediately, a flame burst from the heart of the wood pile into a comfortable blaze that warmed the hut nearly instantaneously.

“Fire magic?” Cole asked in amazement.

“Close. Gilbert has Life magic. He can breathe life into just about anything. Lifeless objects, bloody wounds,” Anne supplied.

“Sitting room furniture,” Gilbert added bitterly. “Garden rakes…”

“Fire seems to be one of the odd additions, and I’m willing to bet there’s more.” Anne concluded, ignoring his utterances. “Maybe he adds life to a spark, and that’s how the fires are lit?”

Cole turned back to the piece he’d been working on a few moments ago, using the strength in his hand to mold a small figure out of auburn clay. Gilbert warmed his hands by the fire as he watched Cole work, noticing how some of the creation came from the artist’s hands, and other parts seemed to happen completely on their own.

“That must be an interesting story - you know, about how you two spilled secrets?”

Anne turned her sunny warms eyes over to Gilbert and smiled when his embarrassed cheeks turned to the ground.  

“It was mostly my fault,” she admitted. “For some reason, I couldn’t get ahold of my magic and it put Gilbert’s own powers in a state of distress. I think both of us were relieved to discover the truth.”

Cole nodded in understanding, his gentle eyes gazing down at his sculpture, but seeing something entirely different. What, Gilbert didn’t know. With a friendly smile, Cole placed the figure in front of Gilbert and nodded a head down toward it.

“Why don’t you practice on this? See, it even looks like you.”

Sure enough, the creation Cole had pressed in his tender figures was a small, clay Gilbert, complete with curly hair and big eyes.

“That’s incredible, Cole,” Gilbert admitted, stunned by the amount of detail possible in such a small sculpture. It reminded him of the ancient greek statues he’d read about in his history books.

“It’ll be even more incredible when you get him up and walking,” Cole prodded gently.

Gilbert’s breath hitched in his breath as the magic started to boil in his veins as hot as the fire. With each tense second that passed as Cole and Anne waited for Gilbert to make his move, he felt the tingling grow hotter and hotter, until it was agony to keep it restrained. Opening his palm over the figure, he released the building magic into the earthy clay.

The figure sat right up, looking around and blinking his eyes. Anne laughed when he rubbed his sleepy eyes and peered curiously at Gilbert. He rose onto his shaky clay feet, moving closer to the startled magician and placed a hand on his knee. Then, with a comforting smile, he patted Gilbert’s knee, to which the boy could only offer an awkward smile back.

It was then that the small Gilbert heard the music of Anne’s laughter and turned to her. It froze solid, stunned by something that Gilbert felt in his heart. The figure approached Anne, and she reached down a hand so he could climb on top of it. A tender smile fell on her lips when she let lifted her hand to her face.

Gilbert could feel what the figurine was going to do before he did it, but was unable to stop smaller Gilbert from reaching out a clay hand to caress Anne’s cheek. The expression in its eyes was the exact same one she saw when Gilbert looked at her, but she wasn’t expecting the figurine to lean forward and press a kiss to her cheek. Tiny fireworks lit under her skin where the magic transferred to her, turning her cheeks a pale pink color.

Cole let out a jolting guffaw and Gilbert reached forward and swatted the clay figure out of her hands, in turn knocking all the magic out of it. Unable to look Gilbert in the eye, Anne waved a flustered hand over the clay figure, and it turned back into malleable clump of earth. Eyes darting back between the two blushing friends, Cole took the ball in his hand and began pressing into it the outlines of a different shape.

“I think you’ll have the hang of it in no time,” Cole said with a smile. “It takes practice and patience, sure, but you have to know who you’re learning magic for, why you’re learning it. Do you know why you’re learning magic, Gilbert?”

Before he could catch himself, Gilbert’s eyes fell on Anne. Her focus was fixed to vibrant emerald vines bursting from the soil. She had begun braiding them into a crown, rubbing the soft leaves between her fingers to adorn the wreath with flowers, clover, and even a butterfly. When she realized Gilbert hadn’t answered - and instead was looking at her - she turned her face up to him and gave him an embarrassed expression of confusion. Gilbert only smiled at her, fighting back the urge to reach out and smooth the hair away from her face.

“I think I do,” he answered finally.

 

A few hours later, Anne and Gilbert walked shoulder-to-shoulder towards Green Gables in complete silence. Anne was content in the soundlessness, closing her eyes to listen to songs on the wind that Gilbert wasn’t privy to. She’d let her magic loose, the usual telltale signs sprouting at their feets and growing from the forest tree roots.

“So, Mr. Blythe, you’ve had magic for quite some time now. Do you intend to keep it?”

Gilbert glanced down at the auburn clay figure in his hands. He’d taken one of the more simple ones from the hut in hopes of using it to show Bash and Mary the extent of his abilities. There was time to change his mind, yet. All he had to do was crush the figure into a clump and throw it into the stream. None would be any the wiser for it. But if he kept the tiny figure, used it to tell the LaCroix’s the truth, there’d be no going back.

“Could I even abandon it?”

Anne took a breath of the cool air.

“It’s not likely. You could certainly avoid and ignore it if you truly wanted to.”

“I don’t think I do. It’s a part of me,” he admitted. And he meant it, too. There was a certain thrill that came with letting loose the power that built to a peak underneath his touch, releasing the surge for the sake of doing good. Besides, certainly his magic could aid him _somehow_ in his pursuit to be a doctor. With a touch of pain relief and restoration, it was no wonder he aspired so passionately to be a doctor. “You know, though, Anne...My magic ended the days of scorn between us. We could have been friendly enemies for easily another four years.”

“‘The days of scorn’ as you so call them were over as soon as they began,” Anne said, rolling her eyes at her own past foolishness. Gilbert’s pace lessened to a slow amble and tilted his head toward her shyly.

“So then what does that make us now? Kindred spirits?”

Anne gave him another cheerful grin, grabbing his head and squeezing it between her freckled fingers.

“The kindred-est, Gilbert Blythe! Whether you like it or not!”

 

When they had made it back to the Green Gables homestead, Anne stood looking down at Gilbert with his one foot on the ground, the other on the second step. Strands of her hair grazed across her cheeks, and she handed him a gray, wool flat cap.

“You left this a few days ago,” she murmured, suddenly shy.

Gilbert took the proffered hat, a speck of green catching his eyes.

“Looks like I’ll be having some good luck soon,” he joked, pointing at a four-leaf clover that had grown near the brim. Anne blushed, shrugging.

“I didn’t think you’d want a daisy or rose blossom. Besides, everyone can always use a little good luck in their lives.”

He swung the cap upon his head, barely noticing the slight upturn of her lips when he did before her face was neutral again. Glancing down at the old wooden steps of the porch, Gilbert saw a small patch of dying red clover. The delicate weeds had been hidden from the sun, browning at the stem and in some of the long purple petals. With a small wave of his hand over them, they straightened back to life with a sparkling saturation, even when Gilbert plucked them from the ground and held them out to her.

“Today was nice,” was all he said.

“It was,” she agreed. “Would you like to practice some more soon?”

A chance to see Anne again? Laughing, speaking, using her magic? Gilbert bit his lip. 

“Of course. How’s tomorrow?”  _And the day after, and the day after, and the day after?_ \- his mind asked. Anne merely turned a wine color and nodded. 

"That'll be nice," she replied, a few red rose petals somehow getting stuck between the strands of her hair. Gilbert plucked one out and handed it to her, making her turn even brighter. 

"Be seeing you, then, Anne." 

As he walked up the lane, he could feel her eyes burning into his back and his magic singeing the tips of the grass along the side of the road. They smoked like blown candles, thousands of little smoke puffs billowing into fairy sized clouds as he walked. But Gilbert did not notice. He only clasped his hands in his pockets, closed his eyes, and listened to the songs that she heard on the wind. 

Oh, how Anne made him burn, but he'd be damned if she didn't make him live either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! ♥ Wanna chat? I'm on tumblr ~ @royalcordelia.


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